


Forms Like Shooting Stars

by FlygonRider



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics), Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Crossover, F/F, Femslash, Kissing, Mentions of Hand Holding, Mentions of Other Voltron Paladins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-23 14:23:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11404257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlygonRider/pseuds/FlygonRider
Summary: There is a god sleeping in Allura's bed.





	Forms Like Shooting Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Woohoo, pretty sure this is the only fic in the ship tag, so horray to me! I am now the captain of this ship and nobody can tell me otherwise.
> 
> I'll be honest, I got the first line stuck in my head, and then wrote this thing in about two days, and edited it in a few hours. If you see any mistakes, please leave a comment and I'll make sure to correct it!
> 
> Comments are gold, and kudos are always appreciated!

There is a god sleeping in Allura’s bed.

She’s tall and powerful, like a god should be. Long, red feelers curl around her shoulders like watery fronds, antennae constantly twitching with dreams. Scars canyon her chest, burns score her abdomen, tallies of great cosmic battles won and lost. 

In another place, another lifetime, she would have flowers thrown at her feet, pleadings for rain and crops and children sent up in wisps of fragrant incense.

Allura remembers the Lion Goddess, and the Arusians who were willing to throw themselves on a pyre for her. 

But that is nothing compared to the slumbering god next to her.

* * *

There is a supernova sleeping in Allura’s bed.

She tears open the fabric of the cosmos without needing a castle or machinery; she comes from a race of reality warpers who can bend space-time with a flick of their wrists. 

Allura has not yet encountered a more terrifying idea, then that no matter where she goes, she can be found.

She eats suns and swallows; they set in her jaws and never rise again. When she explodes, nothing is left but charred earth and shadows melted into the walls. The skies throw themselves at her feet when she commands, and nebula breathe in time with her pulse.

She is the Universe, playing at names for a little while

* * *

There is a monster sleeping in Allura’s bed.

Her fangs are large, her grins full of needle teeth. Entrails hang bloody war banners from her mouth. She demands sacrifice, Galra hearts and Galra bones to sate her appetite. Sometimes, Allura sees her lingering over the slaughter, like she’s calculating the best trophies to hang about her neck.

Her eyes, her spine glow like lava runs in her veins, hands bringing down hellfire and damnation.

Allura gives orders to her paladins on the Galra ships as they’re being chased, but then shrill screaming of enemy soldiers bleeds through the monitors, and something that may be _chewing_ , a sound that later creeps into her dreams. 

Afterwards, she comes back, cradling Pidge in her arms, soaked with gore, and Allura can’t look her in the eye.

When they spar, she holds herself tight, like a spring, talons bared and ready to tear any of them apart.

The monster pins Allura to the mat and kisses like they’re drowning. Allura gasps into her mouth, spine arching, and her talons dig in; she tastes like hot metal and scorched ozone and leaves marks on Allura’s neck that feel more like brands.

* * *

There is a girl sleeping in Allura’s bed.

She likes to balance tablets on her head while Pidge takes notes and reprimands Lance for trying to knock them off.

They land on an uninhabited ice world for repairs, and as soon as the atmosphere reads as breathable, she runs outside to plunge face-first into a snowdrift. Hunk follows, and they wrestle until his fingers and toes are red with cold.

Sometimes, she lets Allura touch her scars. Some are bumpy and rough and thick as a thumb, while others run paper-thin. Every time Allura asks, her smile makes her look as old as Alfor during the times of the burning cities, before she says “maybe someday.”

She yips when she sleeps, clenching her fists and crying out like a child. Allura curls around her, rubbing circles, like a ward; nightmares, leave this child be.

After midnight sparring, she cradles Allura’s face like a shrine, her eyes and mouth all soft at the corners. She swears in Tamaranian so ancient not even the castle can translate, and smiles into Allura’s mouth like they’re hiding secrets.

She makes an off-color joke once, something about a thing called PTSD that makes everybody uncomfortable, except for Shiro, who laughs so hard he bends double.

They sit together at Allura’s mirror, and she grooms Allura’s hair with a long, purple tongue that feels like sandpaper. Her fingers run quick and light through Allura’s hair as she braids it, voice heavy with stories and jokes, repeating until the shadows hanging over them have gone to smoke and ash.

She talks of her homeworld, building deserts and spire-cities with nothing but words, looking so far away that she’ll never return.

But without fail, her vison clears like clouds after rain, and Allura lets out a breath she never realizes she’s holding.

* * *

Starfire is asleep in Allura’s bed.

And when she wakes up, Allura will bring her water, and they will go train and negotiate treaties and hold hands.

The sun will rise, like it always does. And the war will finally be over.


End file.
